


Blind Spots

by Spoon888



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Forgotten Relationship, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15525771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Starscream wakes up with a considerable gap in his memory. As he begins to fill in the spaces, he can't help but feel like something is being kept from him.





	1. Chapter 1

Waking in a cool, sterile medical bay wasn't a feeling foreign to Starscream. Normally it would involve at least a _few_ missing limbs though...

A quick assessment told him everything was present and functional. Every sensor blinked awake and unaffected. He was undamaged; which begged the question... why was he in the medbay in the first place?

Clinks and scrapes behind him were noises he couldn't ignore. He shifted, wondering who was in the room with him.

"Summon Megatron," someone said, and Starscream laid still, trying to feign unconsciousness again.

"Commander?" a voice, oddly soft, was speaking. It took him a moment to realise _he_ was being addressed so kindly.

"Hmm?" He said noncommittally.

"Starscream," he recognised Hook as some exasperation leaked into that once soothing tone. "You were injured in the raid. Your processor is showing signs of dysfunction, if you _can_ speak-"

"I can speak." He growled, flicking his optics online.

Hook was behind him, framed by a web of wires and cables- cables leading _into his processor-_

He went to sit up and furiously rip the invasive equipment from his mind before they could steal his valuable - _damning_ \- personal thoughts. He barely managed a jolt when he found his frame had been immobilised.

"What are you doing to me?!" He demanded, vocaliser catching in the middle.

Hook seemed more concerned with what his monitors were reading than his outburst. Starscream's fuel pump sped up. On no. Had they found the 'Schemes 500-1000' backup file?

"Your memory files have been corrupted." Hook mused, "What's the last thing you can remember?"

"Well that's-" Starscream paused, struggling, "it's- I-"

His own memories were slipping like sand through his digits, impossible to grasp. They were _there_ , glimpses and feelings, but nothing solid and sure. Fights, mundane flight manoeuvres, Skywarp teleporting, laughing at someone's misfortune- were they different days? The same?

"Anything?" Hook pressed. "Any memory?"

"Landing on this primitive planet," Starscream grouched, because he could remember _that_ at least. "That giant purple griffin. That fool Megatron nearly letting me drown-"

Hook made a curious noise, tapping something onto his file. "This isn't good."

"What isn't good?!"

"Your recall bank has been corrupted." Hook said solemnly. "Long term storage is pretty untouched. Recent files though..."

Starscream scoffed, "Fine. Big deal. Just write everything down and I'll bring myself up to speed. Has anyone I know died?"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple." Hook peered down at him.

Starscream had been about to ask him what medical experience he even _had_ if he was struggling with a simple memory corruption, when a visitor arrived.

Megatron came striding in at a speed that threatened to break the sound barrier. He shoved aside an equipment table with frustration- because walking around it was too much work it seemed.

"I told you to summon me before waking him!" He barked, and Starscream struggled not to look vulnerable below him, immobile on the medical slab.

"He woke up by himself," Hook said mulishly.

Megatron pointed at the engineer. "You said-!"

"And _how_ might I have earned a visit from our elated leader today!?" Starscream interrupted loudly, unwilling for anyone -let alone _Hook_ \- eclipse him when it came to irritating Megatron. He was entitled to _some_ fun, after all.

The anger fled Megatron's expression when his gaze dropped. He looked down at Starscream like he didn't recognise him. A mix of emotions Starscream couldn't place flashed through his optics.

"My Lord," Hook came out from behind Starscream's helm. He reached for Megatron's arm in what would have been a grounding gesture -before he paused and thought better of it, awkwardly closing his servo into a fist.

"There has been an unfortunate development." He explained.

"What happened to patient confidentiality?" Starscream snapped. The last thing he needed was this getting out and the masses abusing the wide gap in his memory. They could spout any nonsense and he wouldn't have the knowledge to contradict. It was the worst feeling; ignorance. How he detested it.

Again, Megatron was looking at him. Mouth pressed into a firm hard line. Starscream frowned back, wondering what on Cybertron was wrong with him.

"Sir," This time Hook _did_ take Megatron's arm.

Megatron looked at him like he was contemplating ripping the overfamiliar limb off, but appeared dissuaded enough by Hook's serious expression.

"We should speak outside." He suggested.

 

* * *

 

Hook took Megatron into the corridor. They were out there for some time. Starscream stewed in resentment. Every minute that ticked by was Hook passing more information of his condition over to their leader- information that _he_ didn't even have.

And what business of Megatron's was it anyway? So he'd forgotten a few weeks- months- surely not years of life on this grimy little ball of dirt. It was hardly going to affect performance. He still recalled how to kill.

To take his processor off just what they might have been talking about out there, Starscream began concentrating on some of those half formed memories he still possessed.

"Here," Scrapper noticed his constipated frown of concentration and handed him a blank datapad.

"What am I supposed to do with this? Colour?"

"You could." Scrapper shrugged helplessly. "When Mix' smashed his head, drawing things helped him remember better."

Starscream snorted, "Sure," but took the pad anyway.

He wasn't much of a drawer. His talents were many, but artistically inclined he was not. Instead he wrote. Feelings were stronger memories than sights. He tried to remember the night before and found himself remembering _a_ night. Probably not the right one, he couldn't know for sure. 

He could recall the weight of high grade in his tanks, and a bad mood brought on by the overcharge. Music was playing. Servos were on his waist. The smell of energon rich breath.

Whatever _that_ meant.

He drew a circle around these things and led an arrow titled 'party?' to it, deciding these events must have occurred in the same evening.

He didn't get much further. Hook and Megatron rejoined him, both looking solemn.

"Starscream," Hook spoke, and Megatron remained uncharacteristically silent, moving back and standing by the wall. "From what my equipment tells me you have lost some two Earth years from your memory banks."

A blink in a lifetime of a Cybertronian.

He snorted, "Big deal."

Megatron shifted. Starscream saw a gear in his jaw jump.

"It is." Hook corrected him. "Valuable information resided in those lost files and it's imperative they're rediscovered."

"Valuable?" Starscream cooed, interested and finally feeling a little more in control of the situation. "Now, I would have thought the less _I_ knew, the better?"

"You'd think wrong." Megatron finally spoke, dark glare darker in the shadows of the medbay.

Starscream rolled his optics, refocusing on Hook. "A shame then. Whatever it was, it's long gone now."

"Nothing is ever wiped completely, you know that Starscream," Hook pointed his file at him. "It's still in your hard drive, somewhere. We just need to draw it out."

"And how do you expect to do that?" Starscream snarled, feeling vulnerable again. "If you think I'm going to let you stick needles into my processor-"

"Invasive methods have proved unsuccessful in this type of memory retrieval before," Hook sighed, like that was a bad thing. He picked up the datapad Starscream had just been scribbling on. "But fortunately, it looks like we have alternatives."

 

* * *

 

  
"You remember who _we_ are?" Skywarp asked.

Starscream wanted dearly to pretend he didn't.

" _Short_ term memory loss." He repeated slowly.

Skywarp held up his servos defensively, turning to Thundercracker, "Hey, I was just checking. I mean, he forgot his own-"

"Warp," Thundercracker tweaked his wing and Skywarp cut off with a squeak.

"I have optics, you know!" Starscream snapped, looking between them, "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing you won't find out in your own time."

"Thundercracker-"

"Megatron's orders," he avoided easily, "and Hook's. Can't tell you even if I wanted."

"And we kinda wanna," Skywarp purred, wriggling his optical ridges. "Just to see your reaction."

Thundercracker elbowed him.

"Your sympathy for my plight is overwhelming," Starscream growled.

"Maybe we can help jog your memory?" Skywarp offered, clearly trying to be supportive but really just coming off as annoying. "When are they gonna let you outta here?"

Starscream looked around the dreary medical bay. "They said there was a problem with my private quarters."

His trine did their best to keep their poker faces, but Skywarp blinked rapidly, and Thundercracker swallowed.

"Huh, yeah..."

Starscream squinted at them, looking for clues. Guilt? Embarrassment? And from Skywarp, amusement?

An odd sorting of emotions for two mechs whose supposed 'friend' was suffering an ailment. Perhaps he needed to reassess their loyalties in future.

"I don't know how anyone expects me to remember anything siting stagnant in this hole!" He snapped, kicking at the bottom of the berth. "How am I supposed to know my memory wasn't corrupted deliberately? You all seem so keen on keeping things from me. Was I really injured? Was there _even_ a raid?!"

Skywarp snorted, then composed himself again. Thundercracker looked far more sympathetic.

"Look I- I'm probably going to get slagged for telling you this-"

"TC..." Skywarp reached for his arm.

"No! Let him speak!" Starscream snarled, smacking him away, then smiled sickly sweet. "Go on, Thundercracker."

Thundercracker hesitated, glossa working around his mouth as he appeared to search for the right words. "That sensitive information they said they wanted to recover?"

Oh, this was juicy.

"Yes?" Starscream leant in eagerly.

"It's not military information." Thundercracker made a sympathetic face. "It's more... of a personal nature?"

"Like blackmail?"

"Well, no-"

"Hmm," Starscream scratched his chin. "Perhaps it will be worth recovering."

"It's not _blackmail_ , Screamer." Skywarp smirked, "but TC's right. They're personal memories, not intel. Megatron doesn't want them corrupted by outside influence. Hook said something about rapid recall and emotional trauma-"

Emotional trauma?!

"What the pit happened?!" Starscream stared, "What have I forgotten that you all think I've been traumatised by?"

"Not _traumatised_ -!"

"Listen, Starscream," Thundercracker brushed Skywarp off. "Nothing bad has happened. Believe me. But you've lost two years of your life. You can't just read dates and events off a datapad like you're studying for a history exam. Wouldn't you just feel removed from them?"

"At least I would know."

"You _will_ know," Thundercracker nudged Skywarp to get him smiling too, like they were one big happy trine and no one was keeping huge life changing secrets from one another. "You'll know."

 

* * *

 

In the first three days, Megatron came by every shift change, under the guise of checking up on his progress. There was still something off about his posture, his expression. He looked at Starscream with a scowl, but there was a kind of pain hidden in it, rather than the usual disappointed disgust. A nostalgic frown, like he was melancholy over times gone by, missed opportunities.

Starscream didn't ask. He didn't want to know.

Uncomfortable regardless, he accused Megatron of being out to sabotage his recovery to get rid of him. It worked. He stopped visiting.

It didn't help anyway. Days had passed and all he had was an impression of a party and some half remembered raid. Those were a dime a dozen, parties and raids. So it was fairly inconsequential.

Scrapper managed to encourage him into making some crappy stick figure drawing too. It was of a bloodied mech on the ground, something he could almost, _almost_ remember.

Scrapper offered him a pack of coloured light pens, "Humour me."

Starscream did. It seemed all he'd been doing since waking up here was humouring the engineers and their stupid ideas. He took the grey light pen, coloured in the stick figure and thickened it's limbs. He went for pink next, for the spilled energon.

"Who is it?" Scrapper asked, watching bored.

Starscream shrugged, scribbling angrily. He paused though, looking at his drawing, forcing himself to concede that it did look a little like... Megatron actually. No one else was so boring and grey. Was that a coincidence? Or was it really his own memories trying to come out?

He didn't answer Scrapper, and coloured in more energon.

"What does it make you feel?" Scrapper asked, and Starscream wanted to know where Scrapper thought he got his psychology license from.

How _did_ it make him feel? The thought tugged on his spark unpleasantly. He grimaced, deciding he was done with the drawing. He tossed it aside. "Annoyed."

Scrapper hummed with interest, and stored the drawing away in his own subspace.

 

* * *

 

Scrapper seemed to think bringing him to the place he had allegedly drawn was a good idea. Scavenger had _come along for the ride_ , but Starscream suspected Scrapper just didn't trust him not to fly off and do some snooping of his own.

Starscream barely recognised the area. Before him sat some half repaired coal-fired power station. If this was the scene he had drawn in his terrible stick figure picture, it was obvious what had happened here to have put it out of commission. Starscream kicked his pede against the dry, straw grass, tutting.

"Where are we?"

"Squishies call it Cape Town." Scrapper called over to him, keeping his distance. Behind him Scavenger had already begun inspecting the dirt, looking for trinkets. Starscream rolled his optics.

Nothing here was familiar. The view, the atmosphere, the sounds. He strolled along the edge of the wire security fence -mildly amused at how easy it was to just step over- and spied a patch of dark earth, where no grass was growing.

He crouched, rubbing his digits over the barren ground. It looked like something chemical had spilled here and ruined the soil. Briefly, he wondered if this was where-

He looked up, and this view from the angle was familiar, so much so that the memory hit him.

An orange dawn sky instead of the midday sun, blaster fire and shouting in the distance. Megatron's servos pressed to the hole in his own upper thigh, a main fuel line blasted gruesomely open. Starscream could remember the sickeningly rich smell of it, could remember his own digits knocking aside Megatron's and slipping on slick wires as he worked to clamp the line. He remembered his servos shaking, being confused and stressed.

He stood, frowning down at the patch of dry Earth.

"Anything?" Scrapper called to him.

Starscream turned from the power station and headed back to the Constructicons. "Nothing."

 


	2. Chapter 2

He was finally permitted to leave the medbay. Hook signed him out and Scrapper escorted him back to his quarters.

"I haven't forgotten the way, you know," Starscream informed him petulantly.

Scrapper glanced back, expression unreadable. "I'm just supposed to make sure you go straight there. Get some rest." He said, and it sounded like an excuse.

"I've done nothing _but_ rest."

"They don't want to overwhelm you, I guess," Scrapper shrugged noncommittally. "Don't want you forgetting anything else."

Wonderful, so he was being treated like an invalid. He pushed past Scrapper and strode ahead, leading the way just to prove that yes, amazingly he did remember the quarters he returned to every cycle.

When they reached the door the first thing Starscream noticed was the keypad. His digits hovered over dusty, disused buttons.

"Don't worry, I've got it," Scrapper sighed, withdrawing a datapad, "Soundwave gave me the code-"

- _To his quarters_ , Starscream realised.

He snatched the datapad out of his grip, stuffing it away and making a mental note to change it as soon as possible. The last thing he needed was the lock code for his door becoming base-wide knowledge. _Anyone_ could wander on in.

"I know the code!" He snapped, and stabbed it in.

It did occur to him, halfway through, that he could have changed it and not remembered. To his great relief it did work. The door beeped positively and rolled open.

He expected to be surprised by some forgotten changes. New experiments maybe, a mess he didn't remember making, but the differences he faced now... They set him on edge.

The furniture was not his own, nor was it set out correctly. The desk in the corner was standard issue, but was missing the scraps and dents from his rough handling over the years, and the berth- again different- had been pushed up against the bulkhead beside the door, instead of facing it. His shelves held his polishes and waxes, but his research files were missing, his trinkets, his trophies.

"Okay?" Scrapper asked, and something about his tone, his anxious expression, only worsened Starscream's unease.

"Yes it's fine." He snapped hastily, "Now get out, I need rest."

Convinced, Scrapper left him to it. The door slid shut and Starscream moved into the room, brow creasing further the longer he looked, the less familiar his surroundings became.

Almost overwhelmed by it, he sunk to the empty berth, void of his preferred sheets and pillows. He placed a servo on it's bare top. When he lifted it away, he found it covered in a thick layer of dust.

No wonder this room felt so unfamiliar. He hadn't recharged here in what looked like weeks.

 

* * *

 

Scavenger didn't seem to have a lot of friends, both among the faction and his own gestalt. It wasn't something Starscream had noticed before- until he himself became the sole focus of the mech's lonely attention.

And that he couldn't find anyone else willing to help him only spoke of how far he had fallen.

"So..." Scavenger anxiously scrambled through some of Hook's files, holding the datapad high to hide himself from Starscream's impatient scowl. "Since the power station didn't work-"

"I don't know why you would have expected it to." Starscream snapped, itching to snatch the medical file out of his servos so he could peruse them himself.

Scavenger glanced at him nervously, "There's pages and pages of stuff on memory therapy-"

" _Therapy_?!" Starscream spat. "I don't need therapy! According to _your_ gestalt brother, I hit my head. How is therapy going to help that? How is _talking_ about my _feelings_ going to help?!"

Scavenger, who quite obviously knew about as little as Starscream was accusing him of knowing, shook his helm helplessly. "Not that kinda therapy. More like..." He squinted at what he was reading. "'Guided Mediation' and 'hypnosis'."

Starscream stood up, "Forgive me if I'd rather seek a second opinion than let the loser who collects rocks take me on a spiritual journey."

Scavenger tossed the datapad aside and picked up another. "These files are pretty old..."

Which was probably why Starscream was never going to get his memories back. He still suspected that they didn't want him to remember.

"Sensory recall." Scavenger murmured.

Starscream's helm snapped up, "What?"

Scavenger looked surprised that he'd take any interest. He dragged his digit down the screen to readjust the page. "Sensory recall? Familiar sights, smells, sounds to prompt recall? But you said at the power station-"

-But Starscream _had_ remembered something at the power station- something he hadn't been able to make sense of. He waved Scavenger's concerns aside.

"Ah, but we only tried _one_ sense." He explained, pointing to his optics, then to his olfactory. "It's time I relied on another."

"You wanna..." Scavenger shifted awkwardly, "You wanna sniff some stuff?"

 

* * *

 

"I got ya favourite polish," Skywarp began, diving into his subspace to unload the plethora of junk he'd brought with him. "A pen I found in your lab, I think it's yours. I also found this cool looking booby trap in there-"

"Skywarp," Starscream could feel a sensor pulsing in his helm as he looked at the assorted crud Skywarp had just expelled all over the war chamber's conference table. "None of this is helpful. That is _not_ my light-pen!"

"I'm keeping it then," Skywarp snatched it back.

"To be perfectly frank, Starscream," Thundercracker, who was arguably _more_ useless for not having bothered to bring anything with him, spoke up, "We don't really have access to anything that might be useful in this situation."

Starscream picked up his polish and inhaled it's aroma, slowly, thoughtfully.

And came back with nothing. It just smelt like polish. He threw it back at the table. The container broke, much to his frustration. "Useless!"

The door opened, and Hook exhaled heavily in relief when Soundwave entered.

"Ah, finally-"

"What are you doing here?" Starscream sneered, less than happy to see him.

Soundwave didn't respond. Wordlessly he reached into his subspace and carefully drew out a folded berth insulator. Starscream recognised it's non-standard colouring and fabric, and jumped out of his seat.

"That's mine!"

"Correct." Soundwave agreed, and placed it on the table.

Indignant, Starscream scooped it into his arms. It was soft and luscious against his armour, it's expensive imported material still silky smooth after so many years of wear and war. He held it under his olfactory and breathed in it's familiar scent.

And found it didn't smell quite right.

"You still have that old comfort blanket?" Skywarp laughed.

"It's not a comfort blanket!" He snapped, the fabric still under his nose as he tried to place the new scent. It was a rich, musky smell, like someone else had been lying on it. Someone who didn't used fragranced polish and stuck with standard issue.

Yet that familiar but implacable smell sent a flutter through his systems. It was a comfort in itself.

"Anything?" Hook pressed.

Starscream bundled the fabric under one arm and snorted. "No."

He didn't miss Hook sharing a look with Soundwave.

"Something stronger then." The engineer sighed.

Again Soundwave reached into his subspace. This time, instead of a stolen possession Starscream was familiar with, Soundwave brought out a discoloured cloth. He held it out.

Starscream squinted at it, taking it between his thumb and forefinger.

It was a _used_ polishing cloth.

"Yuck!" He extended it back to Soundwave. "What am I supposed to do with this?!"

"Sniff it." Thundercracker reminded him.

"No!" he pulled a face, then flicked it back at Soundwave. "I don't know where this has been. Whose even is it?!"

Four blank faces stared at him.

Denta gritted, Starscream took it back from Soundwave, and with great show and drama, held it just close enough to give it a cautious sniff. The same scent that was on his insulation sheet flooded his olfactory, and the same fluttering warmth filled his tanks. It was an intimate sort of familiar- it reminded him of rolling across a warm berth in the morning and burying his face in the opposite pillow, of soaking up residual warmth.

Which was ridiculous. He'd never shared a berth with someone in his life.

He drew the cleaning cloth away and found four expectant mechs staring at him.

"What?"

"Remember anything?" Skywarp pressed.

Starscream tossed the cloth down and wiped his fingers on Skywarp's armour, mumbling a dejected. "Not really..."

Skywarp scooped it up again and shoved it in his face, "Try again."

Starscream made a disgusted noise and moved away, unwilling to consider what repressed memories _that_ smell they were forcing on him could mean. It clearly belonged to one specific individual.

"Who is it?"

Thundercracker feigned a look of confusion, "Huh?"

"The mech whose _musk_ you're forcing on me." He growled. "Some fling of mine, I'm guessing?"

Skywarp had paled considerably, he shoved the cloth back into Soundwave's servos like he was trying to get rid of a murder weapon. Not a good sign.

"We're not authorised to give you information on that." Hook interjected calmly.

"Why?!" Starscream demanded. "Just tell me who it is so I at least know who to avoid. It's not going to affect this precious recall you want me to have."

"As interested as we are in restoring your memory gap, it's more than that." Hook scribbled something on a datapad. "Just for now, until you remember at least something, we can't risk... misinforming you."

"Well I've remembered nothing!" He threw his arms up. "This isn't working. _None_ of this is working because you're all idiots!"

He snatched up his insulation sheet and stormed for the door. Soundwave held out an arm, one strong servo gripping the sheet. "Halt."

"It's mine!" Starscream snarled and yanked it free. Soundwave let it slip from his grasp easily, clearly unwilling to damage it. Miserable and uncaring of what he would look like, Starscream threw it around his shoulders like a cape.

It billowed out behind him as he strode away, not fast enough to miss Skywarp giggle snort of, "Sure, like that _ain't_ a security blanket."

 

* * *

 

The room was still dusty and unfamiliar. He rearranged some of the furniture and having his insulation sheet back in place of the nasty tattered standard issue one at least improved his mood. He wrapped the fabric securely around himself, and in the privacy of his own room, felt safe enough to sulk about everything.

Maybe he had been captured by the Autobots, brainwashed by them, and this idiot faction had only just been able to retrieve him. Megatron would hardly have considered his rescue high priority. That would explain the dust at least. And their inability to tell him what he had missed.

It didn't explain the glimpses of memories he had recovered so far though.

He relaxed into the cocoon of fabric and soon found himself drifting off. His processor often worked too fast and too sporadically for him for have sensical dreams, but his muddled memory banks revisited files. They were corrupted, of course, filled with static, blurry, cutting out, but _there_.

They weren't good. Ducking gun fire, smashing a failed project, fuelling alone in the middle of the night- staring out the view port at the sea bed, watching disgusting organic monsters squirm and glow against the darkness, a heavy servo on his shoulder and squeezing in comfort.

That last one was better.

He stirred in his sleep, pulling the sheet closer, breathing in the comforting scent.

He remembered smelling it in the mornings, pushing his nose into neck cables and breathing it in, strong arms tightening around his middle whenever he tried to leave. And he never really wanted to leave. He remembered the ache from long minutes spent tilting his chin up for kisses, the lazily satisfaction of exhausting morning afters. He remembered servos on his wings, on his hips.

He woke up feeling cold and alone, the berth beside him empty.

The sickening feeling low in his tanks felt a lot like loneliness.

 

* * *

 

"I thought I said 'no' to guided mediation?!"

"You said no to _Scavenger_ doing guided mediation." Hook corrected. "So Soundwave's going to do it."

"That's _worse_!"

Hook ignored him, and with Bonecrusher blocking the door with his bulk, there was no escape.

Soundwave was sat in a chair in the middle of the room, an empty one set out opposite him. He lifted a servo, gesturing for Starscream to join him.

Grumbling to himself, Starscream plonked himself down, ignoring all propriety as he swung a leg over the arm rest and slumped lazily. Soundwave didn't comment on it, watching silently as Hook circled the room and lit candles.

"Where do you get those?" Starscream squinted at them.

"Pay attention." Soundwave ordered as Hook ignored them. Starscream scowled and shifted in his seat, moving into a more comfortable but just as rebellious position.

"The engineers will be leaving the room before we begin." Soundwave announced.

This appeared to be news to Hook, who straightened and frowned. "I was going to-"

"Leave " Soundwave finished for him. "The information discussed may be personality sensitive."

Hook looked ready to argue, but Bonecrusher shrugged and was pretty ready to leave anyway. Without backup, Hook had no choice but to obey the menacing third in command. Starscream was just glad he wasn't the focus of the disapproval Soundwave was projecting at the medic.

The door slipped shut with a click, and Starscream suddenly felt awkwardly intimate in the room alone with Soundwave and a load of candles.

"We will begin." Said Soundwave.

Then nothing else.

Starscream sat in silence, wondering what the pit he was supposed to be doing. He'd heard of cyber ninjas meditating before, sitting around on the floor like younglings, humming to themselves. It sounded like a waste of time to him.

"Well, this is pointless."

"You are struggling " Soundwave announced, rather than asked. Starscream pouted. "Offline your optics."

Starscream squinted at him. "Why? What are you going to do to me?"

"Help you." Soundwave tilted his helm. He lifted his servo again, gesturing to him. "May I?"

Starscream felt a light touch in his mind, not an invasion, more like someone tapping on the fogged window to his mind, asking permission to be let in. Starscream shied away, unsure if he could trust Soundwave so easily when he was already so unguarded.

Soundwave opened the channel both ways, so Starscream could feel his genuine desire to help, and his impatience at how long this was taking.

"Fine," he muttered, seeing as he had no other choice.

He felt Soundwave slip into his memory files, glancing over the neatly recorded moments until he reach the empty void from before he woke up. There was nothing there to work with, so Starscream hardly saw how this was going to work.

Until out of seemingly nowhere, Soundwave dragged something forth. The power station.

"We will begin here." Soundwave decided, then drew back, out of his mind, leaving him to fend for himself in unfamiliar memories. "Memory: distressing. Explain."

Starscream wanted to yell back that he didn't know _how_ to explain. His spark flinched with dread when the memory became clearer. He remembered being in pain, glancing back and seeing a smoking hole in his wing.

"I was grounded." He realised. Soundwave didn't respond, but that made it easier to talk. "Some... Autobot scum shot me out of the sky and I..."

He had managed to land, scrapping the paint from his knees on the dry, hard ground, but had collided with something, something sharp that twisted and coiled around his limps. The wire security fence. He'd hit it. Become tangled in it. 

"I couldn't get up," he frowned, remembering how pulling to get lose only cut him deeper. "I couldn't lift my weapon."

One arm had been pinned to his back, the fingers of the other twisted in the mess of wire. He had looked up, looking for someone to order to cut him lose.

"Who else was there?" Soundwave asked.

"There was an Autobot," Starscream remembered seeing the red -or orange?- mech stumble out of the station entrance and see him, weapon raising. He had had no way of defending himself. He had snarled in defiance when the weapon had pointed at his face.

He remembered hearing two shoots, from two weapons, but felt no burning blast of taking either. Megatron was in front of him the next moment, down on one knee. Energon everywhere. He hadn't seen what happened to the Autobot, only that he was gone.

"Who else was there?" Soundwave asked again, sounding far away.

He remembered ignoring the pain of the barbed wire pulling and slicing at the derma between his armour, freeing himself to crawl through the dust and reach Megatron's side as he fell with a thunk to the ground, energon pooling under him, staining Starscream's fingers. It was hot, sticky, seeping beneath his armour-

"Starscream?"

Starscream snapped himself out of it with an angry shake of his helm. He stood, furious, "This is stupid-!"

"We were making progress." Soundwave said gently.

Starscream ignored him, storming from the room, strides fast enough to blow out the candles.

Some memories were best left forgotten.

 


	3. Chapter 3

If it was a choice between returning to the room that wasn't even his anymore or skulking around the dripping base in the middle of the night, he would much rather just skulk.

His lab had been closed off so he couldn't go there, and the codes for the command centre had been changed at some point during the time he'd lost his memory and no one had bothered to give him the updated list. He had a choice between the engine rooms, the hallways, and the recreational room.

He settled on wandering the halls. At least it would keep him busy. Stop him from overthinking.

"Starscream?"

Oh _great_.

Starscream looked up from the floor and there at the other end of the corridor, wandering the ship just as miserably, was Megatron.

It was tempting to turn back and head in the opposite direction, but Starscream hadn't seen Megatron since he'd told him to get lost in the medbay some time ago now. His recent recalls had made him curious.

His silence was enough permission for Megatron to approach. He closed the distance, steps ambling; not at all his usual purposeful stride. He seemed unsure, his brow marred with a frown.

Starscream glanced down and saw the welding scar on Megatron's thigh- which meant the memory of him receiving that wound was less likely to have been fabricated than Starscream would have wanted...

"Are you lost?" Megatron asked with such genuine concern Starscream wanted to slap him.

"No, I'm not _lost_ , piston-face. I know my way around my own base."

Megatron must have been moved to dysfunctional compassion by his ailment, because he didn't blow up back at him. He nodded stiffly, awkwardly. "I was under the impression no progress had been made."

"It hasn't." Starscream snapped, though it wasn't any of Megatron's business. Had he been checking up on him? Creep. "I can remember the important things, like my way around this pit-scape."

"The important things. Yes." Megatron agreed, looking almost... sad. It was weird to see him emote so openly. Starscream couldn't help but stare.

It didn't help that Megatron didn't seem inclined to leave.

Spurred on by some unknown force, Starscream stepped beside him. "I suppose I could use some company."

He didn't look for Megatron's reaction but saw him lift his servo out of the corner of his optic. It went to reach for his shoulder, but aborted at the last moment, falling limp at his side.

"Likewise." Megatron said.

They walked together in silence. Where too? Starscream wasn't sure. He was content to let Megatron led, too busy watching the roll of his leader's shoulders, the clenching of his servos. They were big, strong servos, and Starscream could imagine them being warm, being surprisingly gentle...

He had no idea where _that_ thought had come from.

Megatron was unaware of his musings, staring ahead with his deep set frown. Something was troubling him -and very little had the ability to get past Megatron's thick headed obviousness.

They ended up at the command centre. Starscream was happy to watch Megatron key in the code, filing the tidbit of information away for later use. The room was deserted so late at night, and dark save for the soft glow of standby monitors. It meant the ocean outside the view port was semi-visible. Deep sea creators twirled and bobbed outside, drawn by the artificial lights.

He gravitated towards them.

"Do you remember coming here?" Megatron's voice echoed.

It was the command centre so Starscream had been here a thousand times, plotting, arguing, working- he knew that wasn't what Megatron was referring to. He touched the cool glass of the view port, watching what looked like a glowing plastic bag brush alongside outside. He gave a noncommittal hum.

He heard the thunks of footsteps approaching and in the reflection of the glass Megatron's outline darkened from just grey edges with red eyes, to his fully fledged leader. A servo lifted and landed to clasp his shoulder, grip solid and sure.

Starscream's spark skipped a beat at the familiarity. He remembered a moment like this, from before.

He didn't like what his spark was wanting him to feel. 

He shrugged Megatron off and left wordlessly, not looking back. He was only just in the corridor outside when he heard a grunt and slam like someone punching the wall.

Still, he didn't turn back.

 

* * *

 

It was a strange thing, both wanting and not wanting to know. Life was full of contradictions, so he didn't dwell on it. If his indecision led to a delay, he was happy for it.

Whatever he had forgotten seemed to centre around Megatron and that day at the power station. Soundwave had pointed him towards that memory for a reason. And since everyone was so inclined to just let him flounder about uselessly trying to regain his memories, he was just going to have to find out for himself.

He was still off duty, which meant he had plenty of time to waste hiding around corners and behind doors eavesdropping on everyone else's conversations. The downside was that the majority of this faction where morons, like Skywarp and Thundercracker, who spent _three hours_ arguing about the romantic pairings of characters from an earthling cartoon aimed towards human spawn.

He was on the lookout for a better eavesdropping target when he saw Megatron and Soundwave turn a corner ahead of him. Their pace was slow -which meant they were having one of their typically sappy spark-to-sparks. Soundwave was the only mech Megatron trusted enough to dare be open with.

He hurried after them, straining his audials to listen to what he could before they moved out of range.

"-when nothing is working?" Megatron rasped furiously. His fists where clenched at his sides. "Enough of this 'easing him in'. It's only delaying the inevitable. He should be told, and if there is fallout-"

"He will reject you." Soundwave interrupted, not unkindly, but firmly. He shook his helm, "Starscream; does not trust you as he once did."

Starscream poked his helm out and frowned at their retreating backs. Trust? Him? Megatron? Was Soundwave having a malfunction?

Megatron had stopped to rub a servo down his face, shoulders heavy with the weight of some unseen burden. "I want you to double your efforts."

"Starscream is-"

"I don't what it takes!" He hissed, and Starscream had to really focus in as their voices faded away. "If it were... sparkmate... the same."

Starscream stood alone in the empty corridor, trying not to fill in the empty spaces.

 

* * *

 

He woke the next cycle and rolled onto his side, digits searching for the warm armour of his berthmate. He found cool fabric in it's place. He onlined his optics, blinking -wondering why he expected there to be someone next to him, wondering why his chest felt so hollow that there wasn't.

When he finally did drag himself out of his quarters he wasn't halfway to the mess before he was apprehended by Skywarp.

"Not now," he growled, tired, under-fuelled and self-conscious of the dark smudges under his optics from restless nights.

"Yes now." Skywarp grabbed his collar seam roughly. "I've been sent to get you. Sooner you come the sooner I can go back to what _I_ was doing."

He teleported before Starscream could stop him, and they reappeared with a snap in the recreational room. He slapped Skywarp off, and found himself facing Soundwave and Thundercracker. They glanced at him, then went back to their conversation.

"And you're sure this is what you played?" Thundercracker asked, holding up a cassette- and not one of the drones. A real one.

"Affirmative," Soundwave agreed, then with a nod from Thundercracker flipped into a transformation sequence. He landed, as a cassette player, on the game table next to them. His compartment popped open.

"Listen to this," Thundercracker said, giving no other explanation as he inserted the cassette into Soundwave and snapped it shut.

It began to play, and Starscream recognised it from the first note.

A musical ballad, popular in his pre-war youth. One of his favourites.

"What are you idiots doing?"

"Offline your optics," Skywarp ordered, and came forward to cover them with his hand. Starscream shrugged him off, but Skywarp didn't let up, "C'mon, just do it."

Grumbling, Starscream did, peaking only once or twice to make sure Thundercracker and Skywarp weren't trying to prank him.

"Do you remember the last time you listened to this?" Thundercracker asked.

"No." He said, not bothering to even consider it.

"At a party? You had too much to drink maybe?"

He remembered one of the first things he had recalled. Overcharged. Dancing. This song?

"I mean, even _I_ remember," Skywarp piped up in his audial. "And I was pretty drunk."

The song hit the chorus, and so did the memory. Starscream hadn't been dancing, he'd been sulking. That same misery came over him now as he remembered it. Friends laughing and joking together. Him alone. He remembered looking up, seeing Megatron. Also alone.

"I don't want to do this!" He shook himself out of it, clamping his servos over his audials childishly. "I don't care what happened at a stupid party when I was drunk."

He could still hear the music, and remembered how he had wandering over, drunk and stumbling and so _so_ stupid as he reached Megatron because he'd wanted to thank him. Thank him for saving his life. But he hadn't known what to say. He had tripped. Had almost fallen flat on his face. But there was an arm around his waist, his helm against a strong shoulder. Then they were ambling through the base's corridors together. Megatron had looked at him. Warm and fond.

They had reached his quarters...

Please, dear Primus, _no_.

"Okay, turn it off." Thundercracker said gently.

The music turned down, then clicked off. Starscream lowered his servos and breathed slowly and evenly. He glared at his trine and their expectant faces.

"Anything?" Skywarp prompted.

"Oh, I remembered something," he said darkly, fists balled, "And I had better not have remembered what I _think_ I just remembered."

 

* * *

 

Thanks to previous late night wanderings he had the code for the command centre. All he had to do was stride on it, locate Megatron, and get right up in his face.

"There was a party." He said, ignoring Megatron's poleaxed expression at his sudden appearance. "I don't know when. I was drunk. You walked me back to my room."

"...Yes." Megatron said slowly, cautiously. "You remember-?"

"Did we interface?" He demanded, sounding no small amount hysterical.

It took Megatron a while to respond. His expression carefully stoic as his mind worked the question over. It shouldn't have been so hard to answer. Yes or no. And Starscream felt his tanks roll about in sickening apprehension.

"We didn't." Megatron said eventually, straightening and looking to the side. "We did not interface that night."

Starscream felt himself deflate with relief. "Thank Primus..."

He almost missed how Megatron clenched his jaw.

"You shouldn't be in here." He said, tone suddenly harsh and impatient. "You're supposed to be recovering."

"I didn't know you cared so much," Starscream teased nastily, already heading for the door. He looked back for Megatron's equally sarcastic response, but there was none. He had turned his attention back to the monitors.

Feeling a little awkward, Starscream folded his arms and scurried off.

 

* * *

 

He still couldn't recharge, too pent up and frustrated. He needed to clear his processor of these confusing half memories, just for one night.

He crept digits down his front, teasing himself with fluttering, ghostlike touches until his array pinged online. Ah, he thought as warmth brewed low in his frame, this was going to help.

His spike began to swell beneath his panel. He let it open with a click, and sighed when it rose to the occasion. He wrapped a servo around it and pictured the face of some pretty mech or femme, mouth open, cheeks hollowing. He stroked himself, quickening the pace when for some reason he felt his arousal dwindling, his spike softening.

"Come on," he hissed to himself, glaring at the ceiling. It ached, and not in a good way.

With a snarl of frustration he released himself, wrist aching and spike limp. Annoyed, he spread his thighs apart and pushed his digits lower. His valve was soft and wet. He supposed he'd have to do it this way, even though he wasn't much of a valve mech- or hadn't been. Before.

He spread himself and rolled his digits over his opening. He felt his valve clench and dilate in anticipation, wanting something to fill it better than slender digits.

"Hmm," Starscream hummed to himself as he thought of something big. A spike inside him, grinding deep, nailing the bonus sensors right at the end of his valve. He was fragging himself with his own digits now, fast pants filling the silent room.

He rolled onto his front, getting his knees under him so he could reach deeper, face burrowing into the insulation sheets. He breathed in and _that_ scent filled his olfactory.

He cried in surprise when overload blasted through his frame without warning, the familiar smell triggering memories of being trapped under it, pinned down with not just weight but the sheer overwhelming presence of it's owner. It was aged iron and gun power. Dirt and fusion cells.

It was the neck he buried his nose into on lazy mornings. It was the arms that wrapped around his middle to spoon him.

It recognised that scent now, and sprawled across his berth, wide optic'd and shaking in the aftermath of his overload, he realised that smell was Megatron.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

He couldn't trust anyone. The medics. Soundwave. His own trine even. Liars.

There was no one left to trust but himself and his own muddled memories. He stormed through the base in search of Megatron's quarters, needing to know more. He had the impression of a room that wasn't his own, a different colour on the wall, different stains on the ceiling. The only berth he might have been in other than his own, was Megatron's.

He had never been in the High Commander's suite before- seeing as he was not the High Commander. _Yet_. He had never really felt the urge to snoop around since he planned to have all evidence of Megatron removed when he assumed the title and the room anyway.

He began to unscrew the keypad to cross wires and trick the door into opening, when he paused. Thinking he had nothing to lose anyway, he tapped in a six digit code, remembering the pattern on the keypad rather than the actual numbers. It beeped green, then opened.

His alarm at knowing the code to Megatron's private rooms was short lived and soon eclipsed by a whole new worry when he entered.

For a room he had never stepped foot in before, it was eerily familiar. The suite opened into a office space, with doors either side, one leading to a berth room, the other private wash racks. The walls were a blueish purple he frequently remembered waking to. The berth, neatly made, was stacked with pillows that only ever ended up on the floor anyway.

Why did he know that?

He headed for the desk, thinking he'd find answers there, when his optic caught sight of the shelving units running the length of the wall, and how much of it was filled with _his stuff._

"What the-!?" furious, he snatched his 'Undergrad Researcher of the Vorn' award off the shelve, turning it over in his servo. It wasn't a fake. It had a dent in the corner from where he'd thrown it at the wall after they'd expelled him. This was _his_ trophy.

He began gathering things into his arms. His datafiles, well loved and missed, and some of his past weapons. The first successful prototype for the fusion cannon he had built Megatron. The badge of the first Autobot he had killed. There was so much of his stuff he couldn't fit it all in his arms.

Wasn't it enough that he'd lost his memories, but Megatron was using it as an opportunity to steal his stuff from him now?

Flustered, he let his possessions tumble from his arms to the floor. He couldn't take them back to his quarters without Megatron realising he'd broken in his rooms anyway. He heard something smash when it hit the floor, but he had far more pressing concerns.

He sat himself down at the desk and stole a few of it's random contents, a lit-pen and a data-chip, (see how Megatron liked it!) before landing his sights on an holographic image projector. It sat pride of place on the desk, where Megatron would look at it every time he sat here.

He switched it on.

It lit up with a picture of both him and Megatron. Initially, it didn't give him much in way of information. He and Megatron were stood, side by side, looking stern and professional and victorious, trademark Decepticon scowls in place. But he studied the picture, followed his own arm down where it was half hidden behind Megatron. He squinted, because in the picture it almost looked like they were holding hands behind their backs.

He switched it off, panic rising.

"None of this makes sense," he muttered to himself, rising from the desk to pace the office. "It doesn't make sense..."

A tiny logical part of his processor was piecing it all together for him and he didn't like what it was saying. He shut it down, ignoring it, striding out of the office and wandering into the wash rack.

The smell of solvents and fragrances threw him into a memory. He had used these wash racks, many times, often sleepily lingering under the hot spray, leaning against the wall or back against a strong armoured chest. Megatron touching his wings, kissing his neck-

"Ugh!" He stumbled backwards out of the room, spark leaping.

He rushed through the office into the berth room, trying to get as far as possible from _that_ memory. He braced himself against the end of the berth, struggling to breath as his fuel pump sped up. He looked up, and saw a collection of marks marring the bulkhead above the berth, like claw marks.

He remembered putting them there, sat in Megatron's lap, clawing at the wall for purchase as glossa and denta assaulted his turbines and-

His servos flew to his mouth. He felt sick, his mind swam, his spark ached. He didn't want to remember these things, and he didn't want the emotions that were coming with them.

He sunk to his knees on the floor at the end of the berth, staring at nothing as connections took place. His confusion when Megatron had taken the blaster bolt for him at the power station. The feeling of gratitude he couldn't get rid of. He had thought about it for weeks. Struggled every time he had seen Megatron limp about the command centre.

He had thanked him at that party, drunk and slurring and so horrifically embarrassing even _now_ he blushed. And Megatron had walked him back to his quarters, bid him a good night, and given him a _look_. He remembered it now. That look.

"Starscream?"

 _That_ wasn't his memory.

Megatron was in the doorway, in real time, looking down at him with concern, irritation, and... hope?

He moved in, stooping as though to help him up, before aborting, straightening again. "What are you doing in here?"

Starscream swallowed thickly, steadying his voice. "...I live here with you, don't I?"

Megatron's shoulders slumped with visible relief. His expression was openly vulnerable, and it made Starscream's optics burn. "You remember?"

"No," Starscream blinked angrily, "My stuff's here. I'm not an idiot."

"I see," Megatron turned his helm, angling it so Starscream couldn't see the expression on it.

Starscream knew that was his opening to get up and leave and buy himself a few more hours, maybe even days, of ignorance. He didn't have to face this yet, he didn't have to acknowledge what he had lost.

He didn't get up, and when Megatron had composed himself enough to look at him again, there was a new sense of determination there. As stubborn and bull headed as ever. Starscream never realised he'd appreciated that about him so much.

"You moved in permanently just a year ago." Megatron said, back straight and voice strong. "It is- it _was_ still something new to us."

Us. The word sunk deep beneath Starscream's derma. There was a new sting to his memories now. He hadn't just lost two years. He'd lost an entire relationship. Landmark first moments. Their first kiss. Their first time.

He'd lost whatever he'd felt too.

"I can't-" he struggled to sound dismissive. "I don't remember anything."

"You will." Megatron sounded so sure.

"And if I don't?" He snapped, glaring at him. This was easy for _him_. _He_ could remember. He knew how they'd come together- what they'd said to one another to break down each other's barriers. "What if I don't remember? Ever?"

"You'll still be my conjunx."

 _That_ word slammed into him. He was finding it hard to breath again.

"Why didn't you just say something? Why didn't anyone tell me?" He demanded.

"Because you hate me, Starscream." Megatron said easily, like that was a normal thing to acknowledge- that your own conjunx thought you were the enemy.

"You don't know _how_ I feel!" He yelled, fists clenched. "It's easy for you to just stand there and say-"

"Easy?!" Megatron's composure snapped. His optics narrow and dim. The pointed finger came out with a vengeance. "You think this has been easy? Nothing about this has been _easy_ , little fool. Looking at you, knowing what I've lost-"

"What about me?!" Starscream jabbed himself in the chest, "What about what _I've_ lost?! You've let them- let _everyone_ lead me around on this wild goose chase-!"

"You think I didn't want to tell you? You never would have accepted the truth from me!" Megatron boomed. "I knew, from the moment you _sneered_ at me in the medbay, you would reject whatever I had to tell you."

"Is this any better? Because your plan has worked out so well!"

"Hook's plan." Megatron muttered out of the corner of his frown.

"Hook's an idiot!" Starscream snapped, shoving past him.

"I did what I thought was best!" Megatron yelled after him.

"You did what you thought was _easiest_!" He yelled back, vocaliser catching on the last word. "And you're wrong!" He threw over his shoulder. "I don't hate you."

 

* * *

 

"Look on the bright side," Skywarp, unfazed by the furious outburst Starscream had just unleashed on him, played with the edge of his wing. "You get you fall in love with him all over again."

Starscream flicked him off his wing.

"You'll remember," Thundercracker reassured, approaching with warm, steaming energon. He blew on it before extending it. Starscream resentfully took it. "Hook did say it wasn't permanent."

"Hook isn't always right, you know." He muttered, and sipped on his cube.

"What are you going to do?" Thundercracker asked, sitting on the berth opposite.

"Ignore the problem." He mumbled into the energon.

Skywarp slapped his back and he choked on his drink.

"Yeah, cause that'll solve it!" Skywarp admonished. "You know he's the only one that can actually fill in all those blind spots in there, right?"

Recovering from his coughing fit, Starscream wheezed, "Can't you?"

"Ew no," Skywarp grimaced, "We don't know what you've been up to."

Thundercracker nodded, "You've been otherwise _occupied_."

"Yeah, honeymooner." Skywarp winked, swaying into him playfully.

Starscream didn't need to guess as to why some of his strongest emerging memories regarding Megatron all seemed to involve... being in a berth.

"Besides." Thundercracker lent forwards and touched his wrist. "You are remembering. You just need to keep working at it. Not everything can be a quick fix."

Starscream sighed into the energon, the weight of everything still to come bearing down on him. He wasn't going to wake up one morning and have an epiphany and remember it all. And It wasn't going to go back to how it was. Maybe it never would.

Arms snaked around his middle from behind and Skywarp's chin dropped to the top of his helm.

"It'll be okay, Screamer." He squeezed him, tight and sure. "It's gonna be hard, but it'll be okay."

Starscream blinked back the burn in his optics, and nodded.

 

* * *

 

It took some time for him to muster up the courage to admit to himself that Megatron, as his... significant other, would be a better guide than most to his own memories. He sent a wordless ping to his comm, and waited for him outside his quarters.

"...I think the least you can do is help now." He said to the floor when Megatron emerged.

Megatron didn't comment on his attitude, or their previous argument. He nodded, waved for Starscream to follow.

They walked in stifling silence, until finally Megatron found the strength to break it.

"We often took walks."

"I don't recharge well." Starscream agreed, surprised to hear Megatron might have once bothered to accompany him during his late night wanderings.

"Too much energy." Megatron glanced down at him, mouth asymmetrical, "too many thoughts. I was forever struggling to wear you out."

The smirk he wore sent a rush of energon to Starscream's cheeks, and he blinked when he found himself remembering _another_ time when a smile like that had made him flush -in the darkness of the throne room, giddy and alone with Megatron baiting him into doing something so utterly unprofessional.

"Yes, I remember," he kept his helm low.

Megatron seemed pleased, and it did nothing to dampen the warmth in Starscream's fuel lines.

"Here," Megatron said when they entered the command centre. He moved in ahead of Starscream and stood in front of the wide view port. The sun's rays barely penetrated the ocean floor, but Starscream could make out the rocks and swaying weeds.

"This is where I asked you to be mine." Megatron said simply.

Starscream's spark stuttered again. His servos felt clammy. "I don't remember."

Megatron looked at him, "You said yes. Rather enthusiastically too. In case you were wondering."

Starscream tried to picture what that had been like. How he must have felt. Would he have seen it coming? Did they embrace? Kiss? He couldn't imagine it would have been a conversation as stagnant as this. He moved closer, stood by Megatron's side. Let their arms brush.

"What else?"

Megatron paused. "I kissed you."

"How?"

He tilted his chin up, waiting. Surely, his mate would know what he wanted. Would know what to do without him having to ask. He wanted to been shown. He wanted to _feel_ it.

"How did you kiss-?"

Megatron didn't let him finish the question.

The first touch of their lips was just a brush, a test, to be sure it was allowed. Starscream parted his lips under the pressure, because it was, and he wanted to know what it was that he'd forgotten. Servos came up to cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, holding him steady.

Megatron tilted his helm and swept his glossa along the length of Starscream's bottom lip, unrelentingly powerful and so completely in control. Starscream clung to Megatron's wrists like there was nothing left in the world but him, and how he made him feel -spark throbbing and twirling because he may not remember, but his spark did.

He lost himself to it, moving with Megatron like they'd done this a hundred times before.

They probably had, he remembered with a fluttering rush of emotions. This was their _second_ first kiss. And he couldn't imagine the first having been any better.

His optics burned, and he pulled out of the kiss, pushed his face into Megatron's neck instead. He breathed him in and found that rare comforting scent he still recognised.

"I've missed you," Megatron admitted, sounding raw and broken. Arms came around Starscream, held him close.

Starscream remembered standing in this place before, with these arms around him, and squeezed back.

"...I missed you too."

He didn't remember yet, but he would.

 


End file.
